Oh Dear Merlin
by Smokey.Melons
Summary: Giles; Harry contemplated. It settled around him like an old cloak well worn but comfortable. But at the same time it was brand new to him. Harry Potter was a curse. Ripper was an animal. Rupert was Repressed. But Giles. Giles was new to him. Giles was Loyal like Harry Potter, Fierce like Ripper, and Brilliant like Rupert. This Could Work. (Please Review)
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter was not a normal man. He was not even a normal wizard. Harry Potter hadn't been normal for the past two decades.

Harry as he still thought of himself, was to be met soon by one Quentin Travers of the Watchers Council. Having been employed by them for the better part of a decade didn't mean Harry of course particularly cared to meet with a board member in person. He sighed.

There was no help for it. He would have to grin and bear it. Maybe there would be something interesting to translate. The Council had been collecting fascinating documents since before the Library of Alexandria.

Harry glanced around his office. Nothing was out-of-place. And if he started working on that new find from the thirteenth century...

_Knock Knock _interrupted his musings.

"Sir," his assistant inquired. "There's a Mr. Travers here to see you. Should I send him back?"

"If you must," he mumbled before he could censor himself.

"Sir?"

"Yes Amelia, you may show him in."

"Yes sir."

Why did she always call him Sir_._ He wasn't a Sir. He'd never been a Sir. _Dumbledore_ was a Sir. Not him.

Before his internal monologue could devolve any further, a stocky; steely man in an impeccable suit closed his office door.

"Rupert."

Harry grimaced at the name, "Quentin." Uncomfortable silence ensued. After a few seconds pause, his visitor began again.

"I suppose now that pleasantries are done, I'll get straight to the point. I'm afraid, Rupert that Merrick is dead. He died defending his Slayer." Travers kept speaking, but Harry had stopped listening. Merrick was dead and the news hit him like a well aimed bludger to the kidneys.

Merrick had been... well Harry never exactly knew what Merrick represented, but brother in arms and mentor seemed closest. Now the man who pulled him back from the abyss when he was teetering was gone. Dead.

A thought suddenly occurred to Harry, distracted now from his grief. "What of his slayer? If what you say is true, a new girl had to have been chosen."

"Ah..." Travers reddened, "We are... not entirely certain. She disappeared after eliminating Lothos.

"Lothos!" Harry whispered to himself in shock. A freshly called slayer had taken out Lothos!"

Once or twice every century, Lothos had stalked the Slayer Line and butchered the doomed child. At last count _fourteen _different Slayers had been lost to him. And Merrick's Slayer had staked him. Further more; wonderment filled his voice, "She _Survived_. Another has not been called?"

"According to eyewitness reports, she vanished on the back of a motor bike after setting fire to her high school gymnasium," filled in Travers with a put upon heir.

"She set fire to a school building!?" _Sacrilege_ shrieked little part of his brain that still sounded like his long dead friend Hermione. Setting fire to a center of learning (even if it was only an outbuilding), was atrocious behavior.

"Yes, we can only assume it was to finish off his remaining followers. A drastic course of action, though."

"And who is to be her new watcher?" Asked Harry slowly. "You aren't here to just inform me of Merrick's passing, are you?" His voice catching a little as said the name of a dead man.

"No," Travers started calmly "I am not. You are the only field trained Watcher currently without a potential," Now sounding tired. "The Council knows this is too much to ask, and thus far we have respected you wish to not become further involved in our affairs. But our only other option is Wyndam-Pryce's son and he's more than a year from completing his studies."

At the mention of Wyndam-Pryce, Harry and Travers shared a look. That pompous, overbearing windbag was worse than Draco Malfoy in top form. Petty and arrogant to an extreme in a way that made, if at all possible, Malfoy seem modest. Harry cringed, to think what Wyndam-Pryce's son would be like.

"And how am I supposed to train the girl if she cannot be located?" Harry snorted.

"The Devon Coven foresees her arrival in Sunnydale, California by summer's end." Informed Travers.

"Sunnydale, Sunnydale... Why does tat sound so familiar?" Harry should know that name. Just hearing it caused goose-flesh on the back of his neck. Travers gave him a hard look. And the familiarity of the name crashed into his soul.

"Boca del Inferno, _Mouth of Hell_!" Harry clenched his fists, "_Merlin_, you're sending a barely educated slayer to the most active Hellmouth on earth! What could posses you to perform such feats of lunacy."

Travers gave him an exhausted patronizing scowl, "We have not sent her there, but there she will arrive none the less. It has been decreed by The Powers That Be."

_The Powers That Fucking Be._ Oh Harry hated them. They'd stolen his childhood, killed his friends, and murdered his family all so he could be their perfectly molded pawn in the Wizarding World. The only place Harry had ever felt at home in his entire life. And they'd used him to destroy an entire magical society because his people, had gotten to influential, to powerful to let stand.

The Wizarding magic that once resided inside of him, had been a warm fizzy feeling of guiding light in his soul. And The Powers That Fucking Be arranged events is such a way that he could never have that back.

And now they'd chosen Merrick's Slayer, _His Slayer_ now, as a new pawn in a different game. Any other slayer he could have accepted, ignored, blocked from his thoughts. But not a girl Merrick cared enough about to die for.

"I'll do it." This was not a rational decision, becoming involved with the working of destiny again. But Harry Potter had never been all that rational of a man. It was time to release the solider responsible for the destruction of Voldemort and Wizarding Magic, whom he had kept so tightly repressed over the years. Ripper was now coming out to play.

And Travers, Gods Bless him, working for The Powers That Fucking Be had better watch out. _Because Harry Potter, Ripper, never lost a fight._


	2. Chapter 2

The beginning of the end came for Voldemort on All Hallows Eve. This was the evening he motioned his master plan into effect. A campaign of destruction against all the filthy muggles, mudbloods, and blood traitors swept across the country side. It was also the night he inadvertently birthed his downfall.

Voldemort sent his top enforcers to the highest of profile targets. The Ministry was swarmed and all those lacking the Dark Mark, died bloody. Diffindoed, Bomardaed, and Reductoed in the back as they tried to run to sanctuary. Anti-Apperation and Portkey wards kept them kenneled in.

Mad-Eye Moody was dead with the first wave. They got Arthur Weasley as he shielded Percy with his body and before his son could wipe the blood spatter from his eyes, he to was dead.

Nymphadora Tonks slipped in the pool of blood and passed on before she could even get to her knees. Kingsley Shackleboldt made it all the way to warning the Minister before he succumbed to his wounds.

Rufus Scrimgeour was hit in the chest with a killing curse as his advisors, Cornelius Fudge and Delores Umbridge, fled for the floo, having failed to realize the fireplace held only flames.

And on the Death Eaters went Reveling in the Destruction.

The shops of Diagon Alley were smashed, its patrons and shopkeepers blasted with all manor of hexes and jinxes till those wielding the wands grew bored. The Weasley Twins managed to escape to the Burrow when the most ferocious attentions were turned towards Olivander.

There they found the Burrow, where Harry Potter spent many a happy summer and themselves a glorious childhood, was surrounded by lower echelon Death Eaters. Watching as it burned with Fiendefyre. Ron and Ginny appeared to have made it out of the inferno. But their horrified faces stared back, mounted on conjured pikes. With a look they communicated a new course of action.

And through this Harry Potter, caged inside his mother's wards, screamed himself raw, then bloody as Voldemort thrummed with enjoyment while Vernon Dursley tried to beat him into silencing his freakishness.

Harry witness the annihilations through Voldemort as Voldemort monitored his followers progress, spying through what he marked on their arms.

And when the day dawned, England was now a killing field. More bodies decorating it than stones at Hogwarts. The Death Eaters finished their grueling work and filtered back to their Dark Lord. As the last arrived Harry Potter was finally able to welcome unconsciousness.

When Harry eventually came to it was to find that the Dursleys had fled. Himself no longer a boy but a changed man. Harry willed himself to Hogwarts, still in his day old clothes. There he found it deserted and untouched by the massacre of last night.

He sook out the sorting hat and the Sword of Gryffindor. Grasping the sword he'd slain a basalisk with he felt it change. A Glamour bleeding away leaving a plainer, sturdier blade.

The sorting hat murmured, "Godric and Salazar may have differed, but even they agree, the world has become a nightmare. Put me on boy and Rowena will show you how to end this."


End file.
